


Ocean Spray

by jkateel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:46:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkateel/pseuds/jkateel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabala, Marian thinks, is like the ocean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ocean Spray

It’s happened so often that Dog doesn’t even bother with a warning growl from his place on the floor. His ears do flick forward, and it’s warning enough to expect the sound of lock clicking and the door creaking open. Marian just smiles and makes a mental bookmark in her novel, setting it aside for later.

The firelight catching on golden jewelry gives away the person slinking through the darkness, the scent of sea salt and apricot perfume mixed with whiskey and that Hanged Man scent drifting in. Marian takes it all in, along with the smirk on full lips and the sway of white cloth over dark, dark hips as they approach the bed.

“I thought you found Hightown boring,” Marian teases as Isabela perches on the bed near her legs. The firelight catches the predatory glint of Isabela’s teeth and her eyes; paints dark skin golden and makes wet, full lips gleam. “Or is it starting to grow on you?”

“Oh no, it’s still boring,” Isabela explains, walking fingers up Marian’s legs. “But what was more boring was all the cozy little nooks in Hanged Man being filled up for the evening. How’s a girl supposed to have any fun when that happens?”

Marian smiles, watching Isabela’s fingers flick away her robe to travel up to her thighs. She tries not to shift them, the cool of Isabela’s fingers soaked up by her warm legs. “So you came here? No cozy nooks here.”

Isabela shrugs one shoulder. “I know, but I was thinking about you and these sheets you insist on keeping clean. And where’s the fun in that, hm?”

“You must hate my sheets,” Marian grouses, but smiles again when Isabela grins.

“Don’t worry, I like what’s on top of them well enough,” she says and then leans in.

Kissing Isabela is kind of the ebb and flow of the surf, Marian’s come to think in. The slow sway as Isabela moves lips against lips, the swift dart of her tongue, the way she pulls on Marian’s lower lip as she sinks back. She pushes up again, harder and wetter, mouth warm like the water found at sand-covered beaches. Marian’s read about those in her books, and often dreams about visiting them one day. But with the sea salt scent of Isabela’s skin, Marian can almost picture it better than any description a book could provide: the way warm sand tickling her skin is like Isabela’s fingers; how warm surf must feel like Isabela’s thighs as she straddles her hips.

“Oh, you’re thinking of something nice, aren’t you?” Isabela teases when she pulls away. She tugs at Marian’s robes, questing fingers dart in to find treasure. “Tell me what.”

“Beaches, I was thinking of beaches,” Marian says breathlessly as Isabela brushes her nipples. “How warm they are.”

“Oh, they are,” Isabela purrs, going for Marian’s belt. “Perfect for dueling on too.”

“Dueling naked, I imagine,” Marian murmurs, and Isabela quirks an eyebrow with a wicked grin.

“I like the way you think,” she says, and then leans back in.

Marian closes her eyes. She may never get to the beach, she thinks, but she may have already found the ocean.


End file.
